


The Makings of a Hero

by SirLadySketch



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Elven reactions to human dickery, F/M, Gen, I really hated Orlais :/, NSFW
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-28
Updated: 2015-09-26
Packaged: 2018-04-01 16:06:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4026238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SirLadySketch/pseuds/SirLadySketch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Inquisitor ended the Orlesian Civil War and returns to Skyhold, victorious. However, Solas has played The Game long enough to know when someone is hiding a card up their sleeve, and knows Lavellan well enough to recognize when something is amiss. </p><p>Set after "Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts," Solavellan fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Road From Glory

It was a long and weary trip back from the Capital. Nobles popped out of the woodwork along their return route, seeking an audience with the Inquisitor and her party to congratulate them on a job well done. Conscious of the swelling reputation of the Inquisition, and in deference to the advice to her councilors, Remli agreed to small meetings along the way. Some offered escorts to make their passage easier, while others donated supplies to restock their rations.

Solas noted the Inquisitor’s behavior as the hours stretched into days, meeting after meeting. At first, she’d seemed relieved to be on the road, fleeing the capital and dressed in her scouting gear once again. But with each introduction that was forced upon her, the smile grew a little tighter, her responses a little shorter, and the mask of benevolent pleasure she’d donned for The Game fractured a little more.

Dark circles smudged beneath her eyes, and she spent the hours they did ride staring ahead and speaking only when spoken to. At night he could not find her in the Fade, although her could feel the weight of her pressed against him in the tent. That morning, he waited for her to stir from sleep, holding her close as she slowly awoke.

“Sleep well?” he asked, giving her a gentle squeeze and kissing her forehead. She blinked up at him, confusion clouding her eyes briefly before she gave him a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

“Well enough,” she replied, pushing herself up into a sitting position with a small groan. He watched her as she dressed, fingers fumbling with the clasps on her coat. Silently, he stood and brushed her fingers away to close them for her, earning a genuine smile.

“Ma serranas,” she murmured, and then stood on tip-toe, gave him a brief kiss. She then headed out of the tent and was immediately greeted by the guards with a hearty “Serah!” Solas stood listening to the scene play out. Josephine called out to Remli and began rattling off a list of stops they would be taking for the day, as well as the nobles they could expect to attend. He narrowed his eyes as he heard Remli’s rather listless replies, and hurried to clothe himself. He had to put an end to this.

\- - -

The sun was only a few hours above the horizon before Remli noticed that they had been moving since lunch. She frowned, trying to remember when Josephine said the next stop would be, but could not recall if what she remembered was from this morning or one of the preceding days. She turned to her left to see Dorian a few paces behind, and she slowed her hart to keep stride with him.

“Did we miss our last appointment?” she asked, which earned her a chuckle and a soft ‘tsking’ as he shook his head.

“If you were a mage I'd fear that you've been spending the last few hours wandering the Fade in your daydreams,” he chided. “I know you just won a decisive victory for the Inquisition cause, but you can’t let all of that power go to your head. You’ve got to stay focused or you might fall off your overgrown deer.”

“Dorian…” Remli growled, glaring at the mage’s smug grin.

He waved off her response with a flick of the hand. “Your calendar has been cleared of social appointments. Anyone seeking an audience with our Inquisitor must make an appointment to speak with her at Skyhold.”

Remli blinked, trying to process that. “That seems rather sudden,” she ventured at last, unsure of what to say. Dorian shrugged, gesturing behind them to where the rest of the train marched.

“The good Commander spoke with our ambassador and persuaded her that the longer we stay on the road, the more vulnerable we are to Corypheus’ spies and other ruffians. The Inquisition is bringing back enough supplies and riches to draw even the most timid bandits.” He waggled his eyebrows at her, then leaned over in his saddle to whisper conspiratorially. “That's the official word, anyway. I believe it has more to do with a certain Fadewalker having a rather terse word with your advisors this morning.”

She gaped at him, then turned in her saddle to search for Solas. He rode several paces back, but close enough that he had probably heard most if not all of what Dorian had said. His stern expression softened a little as she looked back at him, and she responded with a smile of thanks. Then, she turned to face ahead once again.

“I am glad of it. The sooner we can get away from Orlais, the better,” she admitted.

Dorian managed to find a way to recline in his saddle. He looked both smug and relaxed, despite the precarious angle of his seat. Doubtless the pose was meant to show off his best features. 

“I am glad as well. Varric owes me two crowns now—I said you wouldn’t kill any of your well-wishers, and Varric said that Cole told him exactly what you were thinking as you met with them, so the odds were in his favor.” He grinned, rubbing his chin and smoothing down his mustache.“I got a bit worried when you slapped that Lady Maggretta, but I appreciate the restraint you showed. Good show. Probably just as well that you didn’t kill any sycophants—the paperwork would have delayed us even further.”

“I’ll bear that in mind,” she replied dryly, although she looked at him sideways as they continued to walk. “Just how many pots are going that involve me, anyway?”

Dorian shook his head, hands up. “Oh no, you won’t catch me that easily. Besides, even the tiniest hint could skew the odds, and I’d like to keep as much of my coin as possible.”

“It is a sign of true friendship when your companions spend their off-hours betting on you,” Remli sighed, which earned her another laugh.

“We do it because we care,” he stated, and she believed him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas calls the Inquisitor's bluff and gets more than he bargains for. (Super long author notes at the end, sorry guys)

Given their journey’s initial delay, it was little wonder that news of the Inquisitor’s role in ending (or at least putting on hold) the bloody Orlesian Civil War had reached the Skyhold. Leliana’s messenger ravens had long since returned to their rookery when the party finally started up the last mountain pass that would bring them home.

When the bridge came into sight, Remli reined in her mount for a moment, taking in the view. The people of the keep lined the path, banners of the Inquisition held high. She closed her eyes, took a steadying breath, then gave the hart a gentle kick. When they started forward, a mighty cheer arose from the ranks. She rode tall, back straight and chin held high as she led the entourage home. Even her hart swelled with pride, bellowing its wailing cry as it recognized the last leg of their journey.

Once they were safely within the gates of the keep, she slipped off the mount and handed the reins to Master Dennet, then disappeared into the chaos that was an army returning from a long trip. Solas watched her go, quickly losing her within the mass of people, but not overly concerned about her disappearance. There was little doubt that she was running off to steal some time away from the others. However, now that they were safely returned, Solas wanted to speak with her before everyone fell back into old habits, and whatever worries she had were buried under day-to-day trivialities.

He helped Josephine disembark from the carriage, and greeted Leliana as she and Cassandra joined them, the two women looking no worse for wear, despite the long road.

“The Inquisitor is rather worn out from the journey. I believe she would benefit from some time to herself, if you can clear her schedule,” he said, Josie raised her eyebrows in surprise, while Leliana gave him a knowing smile. Cassandra nodded, her eyes flicking up to the Inquisitor’s tower.

“We can send something up for the both of you this evening, if you would like,” she ventured, although Solas shook his head.

“The Inquisitor needs rest and time for peace of mind. I am simply going to ensure that she has both by escorting her to her quarters.”

Leliana gave him a look that was clearly trying to call his bluff, but Josephine stared off into the distance, calculating.

“The feast need not be tonight—a few days will give us the time to settle back into routine and allow the remaining supply wagons to arrive,” she said. She refocused her gaze on Solas and beamed at him. “I daresay the Inquisitor has earned a few days off, to say the least. If anyone objects or insists, I will help them see the error of their ways. Please give her our regards when you see her.”

Solas nodded, then headed off in the direction Remli had disappeared, following the trail of his magic and her distinct scent into the heart of the castle.

\- - -

He found her sitting in the dungeon. Specifically, he found her sitting on the edge of the dungeon’s broken floor, staring into the exposed bones of the castle. She rested her head upon one knee, hands steadying one leg while the other kicked back and forth in the air. She didn’t react as he sat down beside her, and now at eye level, he could see the intense frown upon her face, he brows knit together and her lip slightly puffy from where she’d been chewing it.

They sat in silence, staring out across the gleaming snow-capped mountains, hearing the rush of the falls beneath the stone foundations. It was peaceful here, for all its gruesome uses in the past. An odd place for Remli though, tucked away from the sun as it was. Still, given the fact that the dungeon was currently unoccupied and unlikely to have any visitors, it was one of the best places to sit and collect one’s thoughts.

“Not one of your usual hiding spots,” he murmured, taking in the broken walls and twisted bars of iron among the stone rubble. She shrugged, not moving her chin from her knee. He frowned at her lack of response, placing a hand upon her shoulder, which did earn a reaction. She shifted a little, then, lowering her leg to allow both to swing freely.

“That was one of the worst trips we’ve ever had,” she admitted, slowly blowing out her breath. “The Game was even more unpleasant than having a mountain fall on top of me.”

“And yet you always rose to each task set before you, and played The Game like a master,” Solas complemented, feeling his way through her responses. “You went in with a modest hand and bluffed your way to the top. The Inquisition came away with three very powerful cards to add to their deck.”

“Hmm,” she muttered, frowning at the mountains beyond the broken floor as though they had slighted her in some way.

“You are dissatisfied with the turn of events?” he asked, but she shook her head, making a noise of disgust.

“I am dissatisfied with the fact that despite everything we went through, the seat of power is still in the hands of three people I wouldn’t trust to watch a dog, let alone an Empire,” she replied, picking up a stone off the floor and hurling it out into the open air. “We’ve only delayed the issue, rather than solved it, and once we have taken care of Corypheus, they’ll be at each other’s throats again, if not before.”

“Power always has the potential to corrupt,” he said carefully, “But when properly channeled, it can be used to do great good.”

She made a “hmm” noise again, drawing her gaze from the mountains and shifting her attention to her palm. She flexed her fingers, made a fist, then flexed again.

“Am I any better than Corypheus?” she asked at last, dropping the hand back to the cold stone floor. “The Inquisition grows stronger each and every day as more people come to support our cause. Our influence spreads with each and every act we perform, each new ally we make or each foe we defeat. You saw how those people were practically throwing themselves at my feet on our return. What will come of that power, once we’ve ‘saved the world’?”  

“You have advisors to guide you. Your friends who love and support you will do what they can to assist you in whatever task you put your mind to. You have only to ask, and it will be done.” He smiled, thinking of the people she had assembled, how she had artfully convinced even the most steadfast and stoic opponents to their side. He truly believed that she could do anything she put her mind to.

“I want to burn Orlais to the ground,” she growled.

He blinked, unsure if he had heard her correctly. She jumped up to pace, back and forth, along the uneven floor as he watched.

“It was all I could do to not murder Celene myself. She claimed that she wanted to help the elves of her city, but a few words from the court and she moves to kill an entire clan. Briala went along with it, Wolf take her! Gaspard crushed the lives of gods-know how many people to get to where he is, and I know that we’ll have to deal with them all over again. And the entire time during the ball, Celene stood there with a smile, she had the gall to try to use us, to use me—!“ She sputtered to a stop, words failing her.

“And yet you brought them all to heel, and in doing so won three very powerful agents for your cause,” said Solas, carefully.

“But to what end?” she asked, her voice high and strained. “I give them an order and they do it—for now— but Orlais continues to fester with deceit and corruption. The only real currency in that place is death and misery, and there is no hope of changing it unless the whole damn place is torn down and rebuilt from scratch! And since we’re the only real other power in Thedas that has been actively working to help others, it will have to be us stepping in to fix the mess.”

She stood, trembling, fists clenching at her sides. He could see tears in her eyes, feel the ripple of the Mark’s magic crackling in response to her emotions. He waited with bated breath, afraid that any movement might spook her, and fearing what that action might be.

“Did Cole ever tell you what the demon did, what it tried to do, what it made me see at Therinfal?” she asked, staring down at him. “It took my shape and showed me a future where I was a tyrant savior, sweeping justice across the land and laying low all who opposed me—including members of the Inquisition. People greeted me with open arms as I cut them down before me, calling out my name in adoration and horror. I brought order and unity to Thedas by destroying everything in my path.”

She shuddered, breaking away from his gaze and wrapping her arms around herself. “And gods forgive me, but after Orlais, I am beginning to understand how little of the monster was the Envy demon, how much more it was me,” she whispered.

Solas was at her side in a moment, his arms around her and drawing her against his chest. She shuddered against him, burying her face against his shoulder and bringing her hands up to clutch at his vest. He kissed the top of her head, cradling her close.

“For better or for worse, demons show us many things. It is often ugly truths about ourselves that we keep buried in our hearts, hoping that no one will see,” he murmured into her hair. “Instinct can be a terrible thing—your first reaction to something may not always be as kind as you would wish, but it is usually a physical, gut response that is near impossible to control.”

He drew back a little, cupping her face in his hands and using his thumbs to brush away the tears that fell.

“You are not defined by your reactions, but by your actions. Yours is a spirit strong enough to overcome any challenge, Vhenan, even if they come from within. This is why they call you a hero, and why I know that you will not falter.”

She buried her face in his shoulder again, knuckles white as they clung to his tunic. “I just want to go home,” she said, her voice muffled by the layers of fabric. “But this is home now. For better or worse, I don’t think I will be able to leave when this is all done.”

“Where would you go? Would you return to your clan?” He asked, resting his chin on her head and running a soothing hand along her back. She shook her head, faintly sighing as she thought of the welcome she would receive.

“No, I lost my place there long ago. But I would go back to the woods for a time, to reassure myself that there are parts of the world yet unblemished by politics. I might go exploring to the South—I heard rumors of ruins and lost cities. Or perhaps to the East—I like the Hinterlands, even if no one else does.”

“Not the bog?” Solas teased, and was relieved to feel a laugh amidst her tears.

“I would take a week of staying with undead in the bog, muck up to my thighs and bugs the size of my fist over another evening at court.”

They laughed a little at that, and spent a few moments in silence, each lost to their own thoughts. Dimly, echoes of people unloading carts and restoring things to their proper places could just be heard. It was a busy, industrious sound, strangely distant coming through several feet of solid stone and the heavy wooden door.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” she asked at last, her hand playing with the cord that held the wolf jaw. “I can’t leave because I’ve made this mess, and it isn’t right to make anyone clean up after me.”

He gave her a gentle squeeze in response, his hand slipping down to cover the one that played with the talisman.

“I have little doubt that both the Hero of Ferelden and the Champion of Kirkwall felt as you do,” he replied, “and I am sure that Master Tethras will tell you that no story ever truly has an end, it is simply a matter of where one stops the telling. Legend will tell of this time, to be sure, but you are more than what people will remember, and your life is your own.”

She looked up at him, wry smile on her mouth.

“I’m not sure Hawke is the best role model to aspire to, but I appreciate the sentiment,” she said, scrubbing at her eyes with the palms of her hands to wipe away the rest of her tears. “But thank you. You always know exactly what to say.” She leaned up to give him a quick peck on the chin. “ _Ma serranas, Ha’hren-Vhenan_.”

He chuckled, a low rumble in his chest. “I am glad that I can be of service. You will be even more pleased to hear that your advisers have given you the next few days to yourself.” She looked up at him, curious, and he smiled down at her. “You could take a trip out to the bog, if you’d like.”

“As fun as wandering around in the undead-infested muck sounds, I think I will pass for now. Perhaps that can be my next day off,” she said, leaning her head back on his shoulder. Her palm was flat against his chest now, the magic stirring a little as it sparked against Solas’ own innate wards. She could just make out his scent, a warm and earthy tang that made her think of the forest after the rain, but she was also acutely aware of the smell of horses and dust from the road on both of them.

“For now, I think my ultimate getaway destination is the bath,” she grinned up at him, sliding her hand on his waist a little further to rest lightly on his rear. “Care to join me?”

She shifted a little to brush her hip against his thigh, and felt the quickening of his pulse under her palm. Outwardly, however, he remained demure, shaking his head.

“We shouldn’t. You need rest.”

“But what if I fall asleep in the bath and drown?” she asked, purring into his ear as she gently nipped at his jaw. “It would be a shame if I survived the court intrigue only to meet my end because I was all alone and vulnerable in my chambers.”

He hummed, a sign that he was tempted to give in, and slid his hands down to rest at her waist. She nuzzled his neck, arching up to him, briefly.

“And even if I should survive in the bathing pool alone, who knows if I shall be able to fall asleep at all, given that it’s only just early afternoon and there are still hours to go before dinner.” She pulled away to grin up at him. “You’ll come with me to make sure that I don’t come to any harm, won’t you?”

He narrowed his eyes, still debating, and she let her smile crack, just a little. “I would prefer not to be alone, Vhenan, and I don’t want Cole popping in to talk to me about the undersides of rashvine leaves while I’m washing away the road. Please?”

That softened his expression, and he leaned forward to kiss her. “Of course. Yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts" was a very long, frustrating ordeal for me. I admit that I have not read "The Masked Empire," but I felt like the entire mission dragged on. I think I would have liked it better if I hadn't been under a time-crunch, but I also found it really difficult to see my Lavellan enjoy herself. I would imagine hunters spent long spans of time away from the clans in order to gather enough food, and Remli, at least, would be comfortable, if not happier in those smaller groups. I would imagine Halamshiral would be a huge culture shock-- speaking with Vivienne would only give Lavellan a glimpse into court life-- and given the poor treatment of the elves and Remli's own distaste for malicious deception, the ball would have left a very foul taste in her mouth.
> 
> With the truce ending, you don't really resolve anything, which means that you can call for a ceasefire, but ultimately you know the Inquisition is going to have to deal with all of that leftover shit once Corypheus is taken care of. At that point, the future of the Envy demon of Therinfal actually makes more sense-- take power away from the squabbling children for the betterment of the world. Who better than the Inquisitor, savior of the world, to take that power? And who would be able to stop her? I have to wonder how many times the Inquisitor remembered that scene before Cole stepped in, and if it ever bothered her that she was taking the path the Envy demon showed to her, despite her best efforts.
> 
> I'm not sure if this really fits into the cannon of the game (there are no options to say "Orlais sucks, I want to depose the emperor/empress and put in a trusted ruler instead"), but I always played Remli thinking that she would ultimately leave the Inquisition as soon as Corypheus was defeated, or at least try to leave once she felt her duty to the world was over. I actually don't see the Inquisition disbanding, as was the original intent, but given how we know that both Hawke and the Warden were able to quietly slip away, I foresee Remli following suit.


	3. Adult Swim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas accompanies Lavellan down to her bathing chamber to ensure she recovers from Val Royeaux. Time for Adult Swim! (Chapter is NSFW)

For all that it was a gilded cage, Skyhold did allow for some luxuries unheard of in the woods, things Remli would miss if (when) she left the Inquisition for good. The private bath of the tower suite, for instance, had been low in her priorities to fix when there was still a gaping hole in the hallway that led to the war room, a crumbling wall to the south, and patches in the roof that let in the weather (and Leliana’s birds). Surprisingly, it was Blackwall who convinced her to get the bathing suite up and running before the other renovations were done.

“It’s all well and good for you to rough it with the rest of us when we’re on the road. As Sera would put it, shows you’re ‘people’ and willing to make sacrifices for the greater good. But the way I see it, you fight your most difficult battles here at Skyhold,” the warden said. “Trust me, if you’ve got to nonce up to the nobles who come calling, then you’ll need a little haven of your own to slip away to for a bit. Give you a chance to rinse off the oily sleaze they leave in their wake.”

In the end she’d agreed to get the pumps and water running again, and there had been minor repairs to sure up any cracks in the basin that might lead to damages later on, but for the most part the room remained as they had found it. Cleaned, of course, but there were still holes in the walls that let in the chilled mountain air, and sunlight filtered in through the hardy vines and shrubs that clung to the stone face. The source of the pool itself came from a fresh spring from the heart of the mountain, and the water was heated by sigils set into decorative tiles as part of the swirling mosaic design.

And it was a little haven, a bit like a secret getaway, in part because they had not yet finished the stairs that led from her room to the base of the tower, and the only way to reach it was by ladder. It was also obstructed enough that Leliana’s ravens did not try to find some nook or purchase, so the room lacked the feeling of constant surveillance and scrutiny.

After the workmen had gone, only Remli made the climb down. She had stashed essentials like towels and toiletries in the cubby-holes around the room, and retrieved replacements herself so that the servants wouldn’t have an excuse to make the hike any time she decided to bathe. She’d strongly encouraged them not to come down, and so the sanctuary had yet to be disturbed.

Until now, that was. Solas stood in the archway, taking in the scene with interest. Normally, she’d be self-conscious if someone entered her private space, inspecting her things and seeing the things that mattered to her. She’d learned to deal with people coming in and out of her bedroom (except when Solas magically sealed the door), but this, this was her inner sanctum. 

Here was where she stored the small tokens she’d collected along her travels—some people kept diaries, she kept trinkets. An arrow fletched in the colors of Red Jenny, a chipped chess piece whose mates were long since lost. Little things that meant the world to her, reminding her of the good times amidst their trials. But Solas, smiling at them now, shared in most of those memories. Of all the friends she’d made, Solas was the only one who’d really made an effort to learn her quirks while respecting her privacy, and in turn, she was one of the few who’s made an effort to learn more about him. She had no reservations about asking him to her private sanctum.

As he examined her treasures, she continued into the room, shucking off the shoes and leaving them in a heap by the wall. The pauldrons of her armor quickly followed suit, then the belts, and vambraces. She still had the wrappings and tunic and sash to peel off, but the metal bits were gone, at least. She tried to stretch, feeling the tension of the last few weeks upon her, felt her muscles protest. She ached from head to toe. Her earlier outburst of irritation and frustration had settled in her joints, leaving her tense and stiff.

She gave a small groan as she heard the crack of cartilage in her spine, and stretched a bit further, hoping the overextension of her limbs would loosen things up a bit. The groan turned into a contented hum, however, as a warm flare of magic soothed and seeped into the areas where Solas’ fingers made contact.

“You carry too much weight upon your shoulders, Vhenan,” he said, running his fingers up her back. “Magic can only ease so much. You must take this time to relax and regain your strength for the battle ahead.” 

She leaned against him, reaching up to cradle his cheek in her hand. 

“Have I ever told you that you have the most magnificent hands?” she purred, catching one of them and pinning it against her side. He chuckled, sending a ribbon of magic down her spine and lifting her to her toes as she arched into the touch.

“I seem to recall something along those lines, yes.” The hand trailed from her back to her side, holding her in place as he moved to murmur in her ear, “Although I believe your exact words mentioned ‘fingers,’ specifically.”

“Mmm, ‘dreadfully skilled,’ I think.” She shifted at last, turning to face him. “Dreadfully skilled fingers, paired with a terribly wicked tongue.” She laughed, lowering her hands to fiddle with his belt. “Do you think those dreadfully skilled fingers of yours might be so kind as to take care of these—“ at this, she tugged at his belt again—“while I get some things from the shelves? I have some bathing oils from Vivienne she bought on one of our earlier trips to Val Royeaux. They make the most wonderful fizzy bubbles, let me just—“

“Peace, Vhenan. I can retrieve it for you. Go ahead, I will join you presently.”

He nudged her towards the bath, then walked over to the broken shelves that held the small trinkets she’d collected over some of their more memorable excursions. A small wooden halla, no doubt carved by the warden, stood proud on the cracked shelf. The figure’s delicate face tilted up as though looking at the stars—or, in this case, a deep red bottle with the seal of a wyvern on, marking it as a rarity from one of the finest parfumiers in all of Thedas.

He reached for the bottle, and his hand swept across something else that flared with a quick burst of magic, then was gone. Remli gasped, and he turned to see her flexing her hand, the mark flaring into life as he’d touched the ancient relic. Grasping at the object, he pulled down a small statue of a wolf in repose, similar to the greater markers scattered across the landscape. He brushed his fingers over it, feeling the spark of the ancient spells of protection beneath it.

“Ah, I’d almost forgotten about him,” she said, walking over to take the statue and turn it in her hands. She rubbed the spot between the wolf’s ears, a fond smile on her face. “Cole gave it to me, I think he found it in the fens where we killed that Dragon in the Exalted Plains. He said it would guard the chamber, the way the larger statues guarded the sites we visited. I’m not really sure if he understands what the statues represent to the Dalish, and it has some sort of magic that makes my hand go all tingly when I touch it, but he was so pleased with his gift I didn’t want to get rid of it.”

Solas smiled, taking the wolf and setting it back on the shelf above them. “A fine gift, most likely meant to keep a traveler safe. The sigils are old and powerful, meant to keep those within safe from prying eyes. Who would disturb you when the Dread Wolf himself watches over you?” 

She laughed, reaching up to turn the wolf so that it faced away from the bath, and raised her eyebrows.

“Call me silly, but I prefer to keep him facing away while I bathe,” she laughed, giving the wolf a loving pat before reaching over and taking up the aforementioned bottle. “There’s also no reason in giving the Dread Wolf a show. Superstition or not, who wants to invite trouble?”

Solas’s eyes narrowed. “Why indeed,” he agreed, then tilted his head, a slow grin forming. “But if I asked, Vhenan…” He trailed off, and she caught the grin, pushing him gently against the wall.

“Hmm… a show, is it?” She glanced up at the wolf figure, “I suppose keeping him next to a bottle of embrium essence dulled his senses enough to cover my scent. And since you asked so nicely…” she trailed off, walking backwards a few steps while keeping her eyes locked on his.

There wasn’t much left to take off at this point, the most cumbersome pieces already in a heap, but that simply meant she could be more deliberate in her actions. Giving him an inviting smile, she turned on her heel and slowly began to unwind the sash, letting it flutter to the ground in a ribbon of green. She paused at one of the crumbling stone benches, lifting a leg to play with the top of her leggings, sliding the supple leather down her thigh, over her knee, and then slipping it off altogether, letting it fall to the ground. She smoothly set her bare leg down and lifted the other, giving it the same careful movements as the first. 

As she straightened, she glanced back at him. He’d relaxed against the wall in much the same pose he’d been at the Winter Palace, one leg tucked neatly behind the other, hands resting modestly in front. Except the flush across his cheeks now was not from an ever-refilled goblet of fine Orlesian wines, and his hands were rather strategically placed. But his eyes were intent, and the grin he gave her when he caught her eyes promised a memorable afternoon. She felt the blood rush to her cheeks even as the rest of her body began to warm.

Turning once again, she sashayed over to the far wall, reaching behind to unclasp the grommets and fastenings that held the fitted plates flush to her body. If she timed it right, she could clear the other side of the bath just as the corset fell away, revealing another little surprise she’d received, courtesy of Josie, of all people.

Unfortunately, frilly human undergarments were not meant to be worn under heavy armor—at least, not without some sort of barrier between the ties and the lace. Dalish armor had no need for such padding, however, given the way it was meant to glide over skin like hardened shell. As such, she was at the corner of the bath when she stopped, realizing her dilemma.

She tried to turn it into something that looked a bit more sexy and suave then trying to get the material unstuck. When that didn’t work, she tugged a little harder, attempting to feel where, exactly, the delicate fabric had snagged, but unable to find a way to release it. She laughed, throwing up her hands in defeat.

“Solas, I think I need those dreadfully skilled fingers of yours,” she said, gesturing at the tangled mess that was lacy brassier and leather lacings on the armor. He chuckled, and she soon felt warm hands at her lower back, deftly freeing the plate and pulling it away. The hands travelled along the lines of the lace, moving forward to cup her breasts appreciatively, fingers playing with the tiny flowers sewn along the top of the low-cut material.

“Fascinating,” he whispered into her ear, and she shivered, reaching up a hand to cover his, then move to the cleft between them.

“If you’re so very fond of it, I shall let you keep it,” she laughed, undoing the center clasp, holding out her arms and letting the material slide off as she stepped away from him. Her hands moved to the belt holding the modesty panel and skirt in place, then that too was on the floor. Clad only in her smalls, she paused, turning to look over her shoulder again, giving him a teasing glimpse of breast.

“You did say we have the next few hours to ourselves, didn’t you?” she asked as she hooked a finger into the band and began to pull the cloth down. Solas visibly swallowed, nodding.

“I took the liberty of making a sigil at the bottom of the ladder, so should anyone come to interrupt, we shall hear them.” His voice was remarkably calm, but she noticed how tightly he held onto the frilly fabric in his hands, and she smiled as the smalls hit the floor. Stepping carefully into the slightly steaming water, she waited until she was fully submerged before turning to him. 

“Well?” she asked, arching an eyebrow, moving to the side of the bath to cross her arms on the lip. He knelt at the side of the pool, drawing her up into a kiss.

“You are so beautiful,” he murmured, and she lifted out of the water to whisper into his ear.

“You have about thirty seconds before I pull you in here after me,” she swept back, giving him a little splash. “Don’t forget the oil.”

She ducked under the water, trying to remove the first layer of dust and grime from the road. As much as she wanted to get a show of her own, the need to get at least a little cleaner before he joined her held precedent. She did get to watch him peel off the long shirt and breeches, however, and hummed in satisfaction to see that he had, in fact, responded to her show, despite the minor wardrobe hiccup.

She pulled him to her as he entered the pool, one hand seeking his neck to draw him down for a kiss while the other slid down his back, pulling him close. He responded in kind, one hand tangling in the hair at the base of her neck while the other lifted her thigh, angling her so that a gentle thrust was all it took to slip inside.

It was a slow, luxuriating pace. They spent running hands along skin, relishing in the chance to reacquaint themselves with the muscles and planes of each other. Val Royeaux had given them little chance to steal time for themselves, and Remli sighed in content, feeling the stress of the trip melt away under Solas’ fingers. And his tongue was so wickedly clever.

She could feel the Elvhen praises her murmured against her skin like liquid heat, the words rolling down the slopes of her shoulders and chest as she caught familiar words here and there. His fingers kneaded sore muscles as he spoke, leaving each area he touched hot and tingling in content. As she melted into his fingers gave him an appreciative squeeze, causing his words to falter as he groaned in reply. 

He chuckled against her, lifting his head to give her a swift kiss before extracting her off of his lap. She complained as he withdrew, but he quickly shifted her to the wall, pulling her hands out of the water so she could brace against the edge. He returned to her with enthusiasm, moving more quickly as his fingers worked their magic below water. 

She keened with pleasure at the new angle, feeling her feet lift off the floor with each thrust, and the slow, relaxed pace they’d enjoyed quickly melted into a frantic coupling that had them both sagged against the edge of the pool, panting for breath and feeling wonderfully relaxed. When Remli was finally able to gather the energy to open her eyes, she laughed, reaching out in front of her.

“We forgot the oil,” she said, and Solas hummed, the feeling rumbling along her back. He buried his face in her hair, one arm draped across her abdomen, holding her to him, the other hand roaming upwards.

“It is only mid-afternoon,” he rumbled into her ear, voice thick. “And we have yet to finish bathing completely. We may yet find a use for the oil.” She hummed in content, glancing at her fingers. Not quite pruned yet, but close.

“Unfortunately, this is not that kind of oil,” she said, pulling out the stopper and letting a few drops fall into the water. “If you get too much of this on your skin it can leave nasty burns. I’m almost afraid to ask what’s in it, but it does wonders on the skin.”

“Hmm, a pity, but good to know,” replied Solas, pulling away at last and sinking lower into the water. She grabbed the two washcloths she’d left by the side of the pool and smiled, handing one to him.

“That said, I may or may not have oils like that upstairs.”

He laughed, moving to draw her back into his arms. “I shall bear that in mind, Vhenan. Shall we finish up down here, then retire to your room to see?”


End file.
